


Desperate Times

by storieswelove



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: M/M, desperate boys are desperate, handjobs, privacy who?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:35:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23532427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storieswelove/pseuds/storieswelove
Summary: David realizes that sometimes, a desperation for privacy means you’ll have to settle for...almost private.*Early days at Ray’s.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 18
Kudos: 209





	Desperate Times

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been sitting on this one unfinished for four months, and gave myself a deadline of the finale. Getting this one in riiiiight under the wire.

They’ve been dating for two weeks, and have yet to find more than twenty minutes of uninterrupted privacy. David is starting to lose his patience — not with Patrick, who has been great at communicating his wants and needs, but at the entire rest of the population of this godforsaken town. 

No matter where they went or what they did for privacy, they’d been thwarted. The motel had not had a free room in two weeks, which is clearly some kind cosmic karma for David’s wrongdoings in a past life— there’s no other explanation for how a motel that once went nine days without a single guest starts selling out nightly the very same day he starts dating Patrick. The store had been slammed, which David supposed was a good thing, but their current record is seven minutes in the storeroom before the bell on the front door inevitably rings. 

Short of blowing Patrick in the back room — and they weren’t there yet, or else David would happily have followed through — David had barely been able to get his hands on his boyf— 

Nope, not doing  _ that _ . 

So when they settle in for a movie night later that week, David is...distracted. As hot as Ryan Reynolds is in  _ The Proposal _ , and as much as he’s into Sandra Bullock's boss energy, he’s also curled under a blanket side-by-side with Patrick, absentmindedly stroking the inside of one of Patrick’s thighs. 

They’re watching Ryan Reynolds strip down on the patio when he feels Patrick’s hand close over his own under the blanket. Slowly, shifting ever so slightly as he does, Patrick moves David’s hand up to his — 

_ Oh _ . So they’re doing this. 

Grinning, he looks down at Patrick, one eyebrow raised in question. Patrick meets his gaze, and raises both eyebrows back, face open and steady, but the bob of his Adam’s apple when he swallows gives him away. 

Ray is home, but he’d talked their ears off about a book he was reading before going out to sit on the porch, book in hand, so David is relatively certain they’ll be okay if they’re quiet. Which feels an awful lot like high school, but he’s about the same level of desperate he was at sixteen, so that checks out. 

David looks back at the TV while he traces circles with the tips of his fingers at the inseam of Patrick’s jeans. He can hear Patrick’s breathing quickening, and speeds up the steady drag of fingers up the inside of Patrick's thigh to match the pace. He slides his hand his entire hand up to cup Patrick’s crotch, and feels how hard Patrick already is. He presses the heel of his palm into Patrick's zipper, and Patrick gasps, a tiny thing that makes David sure he’ll lose sleep trying to chase down that sound again. God, David wants him so badly that it’s an ache deep in his diaphragm. 

David tilts his head up to meet Patrick’s mouth and kisses him deeply. He walks his fingers up Patrick’s zipper to the cool, smooth button. He stills his hand and gives Patrick a chance to respond. Patrick nods, hard and enthusiastic, mouth still pressed against David’s, tongue teasing at the seam of David’s lips. 

David fiddles at the button one-handed, annoyed to find he’s out of practice. But he makes quick work of the zipper, and soon he’s running his hand up and down what are undoubtedly store-brand boxers.  _ God, how could anyone stand that against their—  _

Not the fucking point. 

Patrick’s breathing is more labored now, all pretense of the movie forgotten. David has been so desperate to touch Patrick properly that this basically nothing hand job is just.  _ Doing things _ for him. He slides his fingers into the waistband of Patrick’s boxers and lingers, relishing in the dusting of soft hair and cool skin. Patrick whimpers, and that’s all the permission or encouragement that David needs to slide his hand into Patrick's underwear and grab him.

Patrick is so smooth and hard, and David’s relief to finally be touching Patrick is matched only by the strangled noise that slips out of Patrick’s throat, head thrown back against the back of the couch, eyes closed. Patrick is making the most gorgeous noises David has ever heard, high and guttural, but David is shushing him because they really cannot risk Ray hearing them. David slows his hand while Patrick gets his breathing under control, and only when Patrick nods at him does David start again. 

Patrick is getting harder under his hand, and a muttered, “fuck, I’m so close” encourages David to pick up the pace, teasing Patrick’s balls, rubbing his thumbs over the head, all of his favorite tricks he can pull off under the confines of a blanket. And David is so distracted that it takes him a second to register the loud noise wasn’t from the movie, but instead the screen door. He brings his hand to a grinding halt with half a second to spare. 

“Hello, boys!” Ray says, bright and oblivious, walking into the room. Thank  _ fuck _ they still have the blanket on. “Oh, you’re watching The Proposal? I just  _ love _ this movie! Have I missed the scene where Sandra Bullock dances?” 

“Hey, Ray,” Patrick says, voice strangled, body completely still beneath David. “Um, not sure. I, uh, dozed off for a few minutes.” 

“Oh, no problem! The whole movie is excellent,” Ray says, and settles into the arm of the leather sofa. 

Well, so much for that. Eyes trained on the movie, David hears Patrick let out the faintest sigh, quietly zipping his jeans while Ray narrates his way through the rest of the movie.

David realizes, watching Betty White fake a heart attack so her grandson can get the girl, that maybe he’s nearing that level of desperation too. 

Maybe not quite desperate enough to commandeer a medical helicopter, but. 

He pulls out his phone and starts searching for motels outside of town. 

**Author's Note:**

> All my love to [ships_to_sail](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ships_to_sail/) and [helvetica_upstart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/helvetica_upstart/), because I’m such a quarantine disaster that it took two people to edit a 1k fic. Doing great! 
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr @ storieswelove](storieswelove.tumblr.com/ask)!


End file.
